


It Comes and Goes in Waves

by AdriannakiBerlets



Series: Undertale Stories Based on Other's Aus [2]
Category: Handplates (Zarla), Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Medical Trauma, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 22:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17312921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdriannakiBerlets/pseuds/AdriannakiBerlets
Summary: (Based on the more recent pages of Zarla's Undertale comic series "Handplates") MUST READ!https://www.deviantart.com/zarla/gallery/57456341/Handplates"It was the first of many..."





	It Comes and Goes in Waves

Papyrus was no stranger to nightmares. Sometimes he dreamed of things that hurt him, sounds of drills, the echo of his own screams echoing back at him. He would always be pleading, crying out for mercy, and yet deep down, even then, he knew it was useless. The face of his tormentor was never visible, just as his voice was nothing but senseless static, but there was a strong pang of familiarity with the cruel figure, a familiarity of fear, pain, and...sorrow.

Other times, Papyrus dreamed of falling. Of those he had come to care for in Snowdin falling with him. Of his brother falling. Falling, falling, falling; into some unknown place that swallowed one up like spilled ink on a page swallows up print. Sometimes it was the familiar figure who fell, and with that dream always came a flash of desperation. To save. To redeem. But the possibility of doing so was always out of Papyrus's grasp. Those dreams left him even more hurt, and more tired, than the ones where he was actively being tortured. It made his soul ache with grief and frustration, and yet he could deem why. The figure was still hidden; his voice still indecipherable. Papyrus would always get so close, within a finger's length of saving the man, every single time, only for the darkness to tear them apart once more, the young skeleton waving with a sob and a jolt. Sans would always be there, whispering encouragements and holding his hand like he understood. 

Dreams were hard when they always seemed to be out to get you. Which is why when Sans began to have trouble, Papyrus didn't hesitate to return his brother's care with every ounce of love he could muster.

It started a few weeks after they had arrived and moved into their home in Snowdin. Things were going well, the house cleaning up quickly, good food was available just down the street, and Sans had taken to reading and journeying. The people of Snowdin were very nice and friendly, and while it was cold, Papyrus found that he and his brother were able to withstand the harsh weather better than most, due to not having skin. Papyrus lived the snow. He liked how clean and white it was. It felt familiar somehow, beyond him having come with Sans and Asgore to visit nearly a month before their permanent arrival. He always seemed to have this image in his head, of his brother standing in the snow, calm and peaceful, and happy. It was an odd memory-like thing, but one that didn't make sense. But Papyrus tried not to let those odd feelings and images bother him. They were often a distraction, and he had become very good at ignoring them.

Both boys still shared a bed. There had been talk of maybe separating into two bedrooms, but neither of them had particularly cared for the idea. Sleeping always came easier when they were in each other's arms, a tangle of bony limbs beneath a warm blanket. Things were really well off, in truth. Everything seemed...perfect.

And then Sans began to dream too.

Papyrus wasn't sure just when it had started. He vaguely remembered a few nights early on when he would wake to Sans giving a little whimper in his sleep. That was always remedied by gathering the smaller closer to his side, allowing Sans to snuggle as tightly against him as possible. That always seemed to quiet the other and bring him back to peaceful slumber. But as the nights passed, Papyrus found that things in regard to his brother were becoming worse. Whimpers soon became little cries of distress or pain, thin legs and arms clutching desperately, curling inward. It became harder and harder to calm Sans down, to the point where Papyrus would sometimes have to sit upright and haul his brother up to shake him. Sans would always come out of it after a few good shakes, but the deterioration of his sleep was concerning.

And then, one night, everything changed.

"n-no...n-no! p-please, d-don't, i-"

Papyrus's sockets flew open with a start, dragged from sleep by the squirming at his side. The young skeleton's soul sank. With dread and sorrow, Papyrus carefully sat up in bed, turning to look down at his brother. Sans looked terrible. He was paler than normal, bone covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His posture against the mattress was stiff, almost rigid, his arms and legs twitching under some perceived discomfort or pain. It was his begging that was hardest to witness, however. Papyrus had grown used to Sans sounding hardier and tougher than his small form and low stats indicated. Sans was by no means a weakling, not in personality or in how almost aggressively he protected his brother from even the smallest of threats. Papyrus knew for a fact that Sans's magic was strong, even if the damage output was incredibly weak. But to hear Sans now, whimpering plea after plea, something within Papyrus's soul gave a terrible twist. Sans's pain sounded familiar. Just as the mysterious man in his dreams was familiar, Papyrus realized he could remember many times of hearing his brother in agony. He could almost remember...screaming...crying...desperate, throat-tearing calls for someone, _anyone_ , to save him-

A sob nearly choked Papyrus as he reached out to gather Sans into his arms.

But Sans flinched back, his panic skyrocketing.

"no! please! i'll tell you! i'll do it, i'll do it, just don't hurt him! oh god, please! please!"

"BROTHER..." Papyrus felt tears gathering in his own sockets, hurt from being rejected and worried beyond belief for his brother's welfare. He reached out again, slower this time. Maybe Sans was too out of it to notice anything slower than a lurching skeleton, because Papyrus actually managed to grab hold this time. Sans recoiled, but only as far as his brother's hold allowed. "SHHHHH, SHHHH, IT'S ALRIGHT....I'VE GOT YOU...EVERYTHING'S OKAY, BROTHER."

"i-i c-can'-can't! please! please, don't-"

"SHHHHHH....SHHHHHHHH...."

"hnnnnnn....hnk...."

"IT'S ALRIGHT....IT'S ALRIGHT..."

Sans was a shivering mass of bone, curled up in Papyrus's hold and trembling hard enough that the room filled with the clatter of his rattling. He kept trying to squirm away, his magic flickering in and out of use as the smaller kept trying to manifest an attack or defense, but was unable to fully do so while wrapped in such a feverish sleep. His soul glowed violently beneath his t-shirt, a small and dim little thing compared to Papyrus's own. Papyrus peered at it worriedly, not missing the hitch in his brother's breathing when he lifted up his shirt a little to see the organ properly.

"I WON'T HURT YOU, SANS," Papyrus soothed gently. He ran a hand over his brother's forehead, brushing away the sweat and trying to smooth over the wrinkles of Sans's pinched expression. "I LOVE YOU. I WON'T LET ANYTHING BAD HAPPEN. YOU'LL BE ALRIGHT. SHHHHH...."

How long they sat like that, Papyrus couldn't be certain. Sans seemed to shiver and whimper and struggle for an eternity, before he slowly began to slump into Papyrus's arms, growing limper and limper until all that remained as far as movement was the occasional hiccough or twitch. The magic of Sans's soul dimmed back, calming down as the small skeleton fell back into a proper sleep, though Papyrus could still feel Sans shivering slightly. Even then, Papyrus waited. He waited until the lightening outside their bedroom window spoke of the approaching dawn, until Sans was completely lax and breathing evenly. Convinced that Sans was alright, and truly asleep, Papyrus settling them both back against the mattress. He cuddled Sans to his side and pulled the blankets over them both, before slowly falling asleep himself.

Papyrus was no stranger to nightmares. He had experienced them many times himself; those familiar sensations of fear and desperation a constant puzzle he was almost afraid to solve. But, for whatever dreadful things might have brought those dreams on, Papyrus became convinced that Sans's were far worse, and he vowed to never let Sans face such painful imaginings alone.

Even as they both grew older and became adults, even when they both had their own rooms, Papyrus still slept with one ear tuned in to the other. So that, at the slightest sign of distress, Papyrus could run in and pull Sans close. Talk to him, sooth him, until whatever horror plagued Sans passed and left him weak and drained.

Papyrus was no stranger to nightmares...

But it the long run, maybe that was a good thing.

It meant Sans didn't have to face them alone.

Never alone.


End file.
